This One's From Mars
by evhein
Summary: He always did stand out, didn't he? And Ichigo Kurosaki soon found out he wasn't alone. Enter Shiro, rainbow-child of eccentricity. AU
1. Loser

**Disclaimer:**

I don't own any part of Bleach. I only have my plot bunnies.

**A/N:**

I've recently come in contact with the idea of Uryuu being an extreme loser. The thought never occurred to me that one of the hero's of the Soul Society could be considered as such, and thus the idea of this story was born. Please enjoy, with an open mind, the following story.

**Warning:**

Violence, language, sex, discrimination, and all the other horrors of High School.

**My Thanks To:**

7PhoenixAshes, for being not only an amazing beta, but the inspiration of this story. I'm not saying _she's_ a loser, heh heh. But her story concerning a certain Orihime taking a certain geek to the prom provided me with this inspiration.

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"I've got more win, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck

Than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie you had me  
Girl I was it, look past the sweat, a better love deserving of  
Exchanging body heat in the passenger seat?  
No, no, no, you know it will always just be me

Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster, faster..."

Panic! at the disco, A Fever You Can't Sweat Out, "Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off"

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He wasn't popular; in fact, he was far from being even remotely socially acceptable. He was a loser.

The name stuck with him through the halls to his first block as the air conditioner deluged goosebumps across his tanned skin. The head of vibrant orange hair could be seen floating above the rest of the students as it passed through the first-year's hallway. It was all he could do to avoid being shoved against a wall even here, where students could care less about some lonely third-year. He was just _that_ visible.

Sometimes he considered just dropping out of school. He could always just get his GED from the building down the street from where he lived. He didn't have to deal with all this ass-beating, all this harassment, all these fights. But as soon as he thought that, he felt guilty. He couldn't do that to his late mother.

He said 'late mother' for one big reason. His father had announced one night his marriage to the 'second woman of his dreams', which the blushing bride across the table from Ichigo subserviently accepted and moved on, telling Karin to eat her carrots. The Kurosaki siblings were stunned. How could he do that to them? That's not what fathers should do! They should stay miserably alone and lament on their deceased wife until the loneliness ate at their flesh and nails and nerves and brain until there was nothing left to be even considered human but bleached bone!

Ichigo rolled his eyes. How melodramatic.

These days things like a new mother were so far from his mind that it was like they didn't exist. He needed to worry about his final exams, which were within the next four weeks. If he didn't pass those... No, he couldn't think about something like that. Failure wasn't an option.

Shock set into his bones as he was suddenly flung into the corner locker of the crowded hallway. His arms lifted as if to defend himself from the blow that he expected to land on his face, but the fist instead met with his underbelly. It was like his gut was hit by a train. Saliva flew from his mouth as his bones collapsed around the gloved fist. He felt a shiver of sickness course down his spine and through the nerves in his trembling limbs as he sank to the floor, pulling his knees up to defend his belly from another blow.

He looked up to see the leering brown eyes of three boys no older than him. He hadn't expected the third-year bullies to find him here.

"What's up, strawberry? Didn't ya hear us callin' for ya?" Said the one in the middle with the cropped hair as the other two made a cage around his sides. The one on the left, who's hair was dyed blond, cackled as he grabbed Ichigo's bag off his arm and slung it into the corner beside the hallway door. The contents crashed against the wall and scattered across the tile.

"Yer makin' this too easy, bitch." Said the one with cropped hair, grabbing Ichigo by the collar and hefting him up, only to slam him into the tan lockers. He winced when his head cracked against the hard metal, feeling a sudden wetness slide down his spine. He was rammed into the wall again before his muscles remembered how to fight back.

His hands reached for the strong forearms that held him and he pulled them off, slamming the other into the very locker he was pinned to. Now that he'd switched places, he could grab the other two, the blond and a boy with brown hair, by the scruff of their necks and slam them against each other, their faces colliding in a humiliatingly painful kiss.

By now the students around them had stopped and gathered around them, gawking as if they'd not seen a fight in decades. Leave it to the first years...

Ichigo slid across the floor as one of them, he couldn't tell who in the flurry of movement, regained his upper hand by kicking the redhead in the chest. Ichigo cried out as he collided with other students, one going so far as to push him against the wall and break his nose with an inhumanly strong elbow. As blood rushed down his face and neck, staining his white uniform shirt, Ichigo felt another set of arms ripping at his shoulders to push him into the next hallway, sprawling him on the floor.

He was picked up by two sets of strong hands and pushed into a group of cowering females, causing them to shriek and scurry to the group of laughing jocks in the middle of the hall. Ichigo met the eyes of the suddenly livid football players and made a mad dash back to the first-year hallway as he heard the all too familiar _'get him!'_ ring out, cutting through his oxygen to make room for a quick rush of adrenaline. His legs pumped wildly as he ran through the double doors, his ripped open shirt snagging the fire alarm on his way out.

The hallway was filled with a deafening beeping noise as half the student body was forced to cover their ears in horror. Ichigo wailed as he tugged his shirttail free and grabbed up his bag, leaving the contents covering the floor and avoiding the reaching fists of many angry boys as he made a mad dash for freedom.

He had almost made it to the emergency exit when a hand grabbed his collar and dragged him back into the raging mass of the student body.

And to think, it was only 7:20.

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**A/N:**

This is the shortest chapter I've ever written. It's also the quickest. I hope you all enjoyed! R/R!


	2. The Verge of Discovery

**A/N:**

...

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"_Is it still me that makes you sweat?  
Am I who you think about in bed?  
When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress?  
Then think of what you did  
And how I hope to God he was worth it.  
When the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch his skin..."_

Panic! at the disco, A Fever You Can't Sweat Out, "Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off"

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Orihime Inoue. She sat against the wall in the corner of the room, cradling an icepack tentatively to the side of her swollen cheek. Ichigo found himself staring at her as he sank down onto the blue synthetic leather seats, fisting his own bag of ice to the back of his head. According to recent office rumor, his 'hallway riot' had caused a series of fights, one of which she'd been a victim of. But who in the world would hit one of the nicest, prettiest, most popular girls in school?

Not that it mattered any to him. She wasn't his problem... anymore.

His problem was the teenager sitting beside him, grinning from ear-to-ear as he stared Ichigo down with an irritatingly chipper attitude. The kid was dressed like a freak, but his gorgeous looks more than made up for it. The perky rainbow colored t-shirt accented by a neon pink tie, the black military boots, the plaid green and yellow, ass-tight pants... And those moist lips, garnered by a pink piercing. The neon colored wristbands that had been pulled up his slim arms, past the elbow... the shiny jewelry the covered his hands and wrists... and ears... Ichigo looked away quickly before he was caught staring.

He'd lost track of what the boy was saying about ten minutes ago. It had been just too much nonsensical jabber.

"Look, I'm really glad you've enjoyed your first day at my expense, but can you please just leave me alone? Today's not a good day. Maybe if you introduce yourself to me again tomorrow, that is if I'm not suspended, we can get along better. 'Kay?" Ichigo said, tone sounding more harsh than originally intended.

The boy removed his turquoise-lensed sunglasses, a scowl forming on his model-like facial features.

"Oi, I was jus' tryin' t'be nice! Ain't no goddamn reason t'bite my fuckin' head off!" The boy shouted, causing every head in the office to swing their way. Ichigo sighed and cradled his face in hard fists. God, this kid had an annoyingly high voice for a guy.

"Excuse me, but that kind of language is not tolerated here in Karakura high!" The office secretary spat as she hefted her rather large buttocks up from her seat behind the desk.

"Well, geezus, lady, maybe ya oughtta update yer rules sometime! Thas how ever'body talked back in my old school!" The new kid shouted, bronze bangs sliding into his eyes. He blew them out of his eyes fitfully as he pulled one knee to his chest, the other sprawled languidly in the aisle. The woman plopped back in her seat with a huff.

Orihime giggled at the outburst, causing the boy at Ichigo's side to send her a seductive smirk.

"So, what kinda guy starts a riot like that, anyway?" The boy asked, winking at the orange-headed girl. Ichigo sighed, assuming that was a hint for him to give his name.

"Kurosaki Ichigo, that's who. And really, I didn't even mean for the shit to happen. Things just spun out of control once that group tried to kick my ass."

"Kick yer..." The new student slid his sunglasses back on, hiding his pale brown eyes. "Che. So, you're a weaklin', huh? Here I thought you'd be some kinda big thug I could hang with."

"Sorry. I'm _far_ from a thug." Ichigo sighed, wanting the boy to leave him alone.

"My name's Shirosaki Hichigo, by the way. I figure I might as well hang with ya anyways, maybe keep some 'o them bitches off ya while I'm around." The boy grinned, playfully taping Ichigo on the arm with a hard fist. Ichigo bit back a groan; God, was he _sore_.

"How... kind of you." Ichigo made a face. He really didn't need to draw anymore attention to himself. Having the new kid in school trailing him would no doubt make some heads turn. Especially given this boy's outrageously good looks.

"Ya see that girl in the corner, over there?" Shirosaki asked, nodding towards Orihime. Ichigo nodded.

"Yeah, what of her?"

"Che. I'm just makin' a point. Ya seen her once, why ya gotta go 'n keep starin' at her?" Shirosaki asked, smile broadening.

Ichigo blinked. He had no idea he'd been staring. No wonder Orihime was avoiding his gaze so rigorously.

"Whassup with that? Ya know 'er or somethin'?"

"Yeah, I, uh... we... Yeah." Ichigo dropped his head. He really didn't want to go into that.

The memories that came with her name, memories of a fateful night filled with panting moans and awkward touches, was the last thing he needed to bring up with anyone.

"Ya _fucked_ her!" Shirosaki gasped as if he'd stumbled upon the best gossip in the world, his face brightening with a shit-eating grin. Ichigo reeled back in his seat to glare fretfully at the boy, then over to Orihime, who's eyes had bulged at the exclamation, then back to the cackling bronze-haired kid, then to the bitch behind the office desk. His head was suddenly spinning. He _so_ didn't need this shit right now!

"Young man!" The heavy-set lady gasped.

"Aw, _can it_, bitch!" Shiro barked back, humor gone from his features as he scowled at the woman.

"Kurosaki Ichigo-kun, the principal will you see you now." The office aid smiled as she exited the principals room. Ichigo at first was frozen to his seat as he watched the boy beside him verbally maul the woman behind the desk and Orihime as her wide eyes didn't leave him. What hell had been presented to him now?

He stood, grabbing his ripped backpack and his white hoodie, which had somehow wound up on top of Shirosaki's bright, multi-colored belongings. He blinked at the boy for a moment, registering everything he'd heard from those full, pink lips, before turning to grudgingly shuffle into the other room.

As the door shut behind him, the gleeful smirk found Shirosaki's lips once again, highlighted essentially by stark white teeth.

"Kurosaki Ichigo, eh? Che." He giggled and pulled both his long legs to his chest, grinning childishly into his knees.

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**A/N:**

And that's it for number two! Heh, what did you all think? I'm having so much fun writing this!!

Please R/R!


	3. Prompt

**A/N:**

I've stumbled upon a revolutionary band!! If you haven't heard of them, look up **Base Ball Bear**! I'm in love with their song "**Matsuri no Ato**". I listened to it while writing this chapter! xD

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"_So I guess we're back to us, oh cameraman, swing the focus  
In case I lost my train of thought, where was it that we last left off?  
(Let's pick up, pick up)_

Oh now I do recall, we were just getting to the part  
Where the shock sets in, and the stomach acid finds a new way to make you get sick."

Panic! at the disco, A Fever You Can't Sweat Out, "Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off"

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Prompt. The meaning of this word? Punctual. Time-saving. Ready. Immediate. As a noun, it was translated to cue.

And as a verb?

To motivate. To remind. To inspire.

To Ichigo, it was the phone call to his father from the principals office, his mind playing over the scene that had already came and went.

.: :.

His chin sank to his chest, and his hands clung to his blood-matted hair as Isshin could be heard from the outside of the room, asking loudly to see his 'beloved, attention-deprived son'.

"Daddy's here, Ichigo! Daddy'll make it all better!" Isshin shouted as the door slammed into the wall of the office, revealing Ichigo's father. Isshin Kurosaki, tailed by Shiori soon-to-be Kurosaki, clutching and showing off a photo of a very dead Masaki Kurosaki, expressing unneeded apologies for his son in an embarrassingly animated way.

The teen groaned and sank a little farther into his seat, regretting even crawling out of bed that morning. He felt warm arms wrap gently around his shoulders as Shiori hugged him from behind.

A gesture he wasn't sure how to respond to.

As Isshin fell dramatically into the chair beside him, Ichigo patted the young woman's arms and tried to smile.

"We appreciate you coming here on such short notice, Kurosaki-san." Said the much-feared man behind the desk. Kuwonouske Yubata, the head principal at Karakura High.

"Anything for my little boy, Kuwonouske-san! What manner of trouble has stricken him now?" Isshin exclaimed, sitting on the edge of his chair with his hands tucked under his chin in what looked like an anxious prayer.

Ichigo rolled his eyes and sank further into his chair.

"Ichigo-kun, why don't you step outside for a few moments?" Shiori whispered to him, and he gladly complied.

.: :.

And now, Ichigo was facing a challenge.

He had two seating options: one, he sit beside Orihime, and suffer the brunt of awkwardness from the earlier conversation he'd had with Shirosaki. Or two, he sit beside said new-student and suffer the brunt of awkwardness from Shirosaki's obvious social retardation, and probably have to converse with him yet again.

Because of the tangible social difference between him and Orihime, Ichigo braved the seat beside Shirosaki.

"So, what's th' verdict, Ichi?" Shirosaki asked. Ichigo blinked at the nickname.

"Did you just call me..." Ichigo queried, mouth remaining agape. He'd never had a nickname, he'd never had friends close enough for something like that.

"Whu...? Whus wrong?" Shirosaki asked, head tilting to look like a deranged puppy. Ichigo half expected him to bark.

"For one thing, you called me in the familiar."

Shirosaki blinked.

Ichigo waited for an answer.

"So?"

"So, it's rude."

Again, Shirosaki blinked.

Again, Ichigo waited for an answer.

"So? We're friends, right? What does it matter?" Shirosaki asked, looking hurt. Like a hurt puppy. God, what was wrong with him today?

Ichigo cleared his throat and looked away. "Shirosaki-san, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but-"

"Shiro." Shirosaki interrupted, looking expectant in his strange declaration. Ichigo's brow furrowed as he stared at the boy, waiting for an actual sentence to leave those glossed lips.

Nothing came.

"What do you mean?"

"_I mean_," he mocked "call me Shiro. Naw Shirosaki. It's 'nnoyin'."

"Well then, you shouldn't have introduced yourself as Shirosaki. You should have told me to call you Shiro."

"You should have told me to call _your face_!" Shiro retorted, childishly indignant.

Ichigo's jaw dropped and he fell speechless. There was a horrifying silence as Ichigo's chocolate eyes didn't leave the pale boy, who by now was squirming.

"Th' hell are ya lookin' at?" Shiro demanded, and Ichigo slumped out of his stupor.

"Ah, sorry, I just never thought I'd hear someone who was supposed to be a _senior_ utter something so _first-year_."

"First-year your _face_." Shiro muttered.

"Stop that!" Ichigo exclaimed, perturbed.

Shiro squirmed again at the outburst.

"Anyway, I'm guessing you haven't noticed that I'm not the best guy to be friends with." Ichigo continued, eyes trailing to Orihime. She was now on the office phone, speaking quietly to who he assumed was her mother. If he remembered correctly, her father had died in a military field exercise.

When he turned back to Shiro, he was surprised to find the other's face in his, the gossipy expression back yet again. Ichigo reeled back to avoid kissing those moist lips.

"Why? Are you, like, a _crazy _person?" He whispered to Ichigo, eyes darting back to the office inhabitants as if they were paying attention. Ichigo set his jaw.

"No, but I'm beginning to suspect the same for you." He spat defiantly. Shiro wrinkled his nose and pursed his lips.

"So's your fa-"

"I swear to God, Shiro-san." Ichigo seethed. Shiro frumpled into his chair, arms folding against his chest.

"Quit addin' '-san' tuh stuff. It's 'nnoyin'."

"It's polite." Ichigo retorted, looking at the other male.

"Why ya gotta be polite t' a friend? Why can't ya jus' be yerself?" Shiro asked, eyebrows furrowing. Ichigo sighed and looked away.

"Have you not heard anything I've said?" He asked softly. "You're new here. You'll see tomorrow why we can't be... friends."

The bronze-haired boy opened that delicious mouth of his to speak, but looked up in surprise as the office door swung open. Shiro shrieked, high-pitched and feminine (enough to make Ichigo laugh were he not being mauled), as a slender form swooped down to envelop Ichigo in a smothering 'hug'.

"Oh, Ichigo, Daddy did all he could! I'm so sorry I couldn't get you off one-hundred percent free!" Isshin cried, grabbing the boy's shirt to wipe his teary eyes, effectively revealing Ichigo's torso to the entirety of the office. And, due to the absolute scene Isshin was creating, all eyes indeed saw.

Ichigo tugged his shirt out of his father's hands, his face turning cherry-red. He shoved the man off him. "Dad, what the hell?!"

"Young man!" Shouted the woman behind the desk.

Shiro was verbally on her in an instant, spitting curses and insults that would make a grandmother swoon. Orihime was shouting into the phone so that her mother could hear, turning towards the wall to drown out some of the noise. Isshin was screaming into the picture of Misaki about how horrible a road it was that Ichigo was traveling down, and Shiori was comforting him in what way she could, with soothing words and warm arms. The office was in chaos.

Ichigo grabbed his things and stormed out of the office, the door slamming into the wall on his way out.

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**A/N:**

Hm. This is the first time I'm directly connecting chapters in this story. I'm wondering if it's a mistake...

But, anyway, that was chapter three! I apologize for the wait, but hey, you get two chapters in a row this time. So, you should be happy. I think I made up for it in that way. xP

Those of you who find mistakes, I'm always updating chapters so my readers don't find out how slow my beta is (don't kill me, Il)! So, when you find them, no matter how tiny and insignificant (what am I talking about, no error is insignificant!!), please let me know! In a review! With... review-y comments! I don't need to hear, "Oh, I loved your story!" or "Oh, I hated your story!" as nice as the former is. I need to know how I can grow as an author... So, I expect at least one good comment, like "I liked the scene where Ichigo was stripped half-naked by his own father in front of two of his crushes!" or "I hated the scene where Ichigo was stripped half-naked by his own father in front of two of his crushes!" and then go on to say how the scene made you feel and how it could be improved. Like actual reviews work.

I would love you forever!! O.O;;;;;;

R/R


	4. Cover From a Bad Situation

**A/N: **

Well, this chapter was originally connected to the previous one. But, since every chapter so far has been an average of a page and a half, I figured I'd stick to the dreaded monotony. What everyone hates. lol

Without further ado, I give you chapter four!

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"I hope you didn't expect that you'd get all of the attention.  
Now let's not get selfish  
Did you really think I'd let you kill this chorus?

Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster, faster  
So testosterone boys and harlequin girls,  
Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?"

Panic! at the disco, A Fever You Can't Sweat Out, "Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off"

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The brick wall scraped against his back as he slid to the concrete. Ichigo's feet had led him to a shadowy intrude in the wall of the back of the school. On either side of him was the janitor's door and the boiler room door. His bag fell at his feet.

He groaned and pulled his knees to his chest, arms folding over them and his face burying into the crook of his left elbow. He sighed deeply.

The relative quiet was nice. He could hear distant shouts and whistle-blowing from the football field, but it didn't concern him. Why would it? He was such a loser, he could never show his face near there.

"Oi!" Oh, God. You're kidding, right?

A force attacked the side of his shoe, and he assumed it was Shiro kicking him.

Very weakly.

"Th' hell did ya run off for? Ya _totally_ missed th' fight I gave that fat whore. Aw, it was _good_..." Shiro giggled, before collapsing beside him. "Nah, it was _hilarious_."

Ichigo turned his head just enough to look at the boy. There he was, in all his rainbow-glory. Bronze hair tousled, pale brown eyes lit up with excitement, pale skin flushed from his search for Ichigo.

And there _it_ was. An urge. The same feeling he'd felt in the office when he'd first set eyes on the boy. He'd first confused his blush with embarrassment for being even in the same age-group with the colorful clown. But now,

"Whut?" Shiro asked, gawking in confusion. Ichigo blinked hard and looked away, the same blush making a wreck of his face. He finally lifted his head.

"Why did you follow me?" He asked finally. Shiro raised his eyebrows.

"Why did I...? That's what friends do, moron." Shiro giggled, elbowing him in the shoulder. Ichigo felt the same twist of pain surge through his arm, and finally vocalized it.

"Ow... I think I really might have hurt something today." He said, straightening his back and rubbing his shoulder. What gave this kid the right to suddenly call him his friend? They barely even knew each other. The sentiment wasn't unwelcome, judging by the warmth pooling in Ichigo's belly, but it was strange. Why would anyone in their right mind want to be friends with... him?

"Hey, you okay? Ya want me t' look at it for ya?" Shiro asked, concern spread across those sinful features.

And it hit him. Shiro wasn't in his right mind, he was still new. This was the argument he'd brought up in the office: Shiro had no idea how un-liked Ichigo was in school. He was still too much of a new student.

Ichigo lowered his eyes in shame. He couldn't lead him on like this.

"You don't wanna be seen talking to me, Shiro. Really, you don't." He said, eyes following the swaying branches of the trees surrounding the school.

"Geez, won't you shut up already? I don't care what you say. I like you, and I like being around you. Deal with it." Shiro snorted, stubborn as he leaned against the wall. "Ya just don't seem t' get it."

"No, _you_ don't seem to get it. If you're seen talking to me, you're next in line to get _your_ ass kicked in the hallway." Ichigo spat. Shiro seemed to consider that.

"But I'm not a puss like you." He finally stated.

Ichigo's head dropped to his arm. Of course he wouldn't get it. Only brute force would get through a head like that. Ichigo's eyes found their way to Shiro's face yet again. Yeah, he'd see.

Only brute force would get through a _gorgeous_ head like that.

Dammit, there he went again! He cringed, and Shiro mistook it for pain.

"Oi, is there anything I can do for ya?" He asked quietly, one hand coming to Ichigo's elbow.

"I don't think so." Ichigo muttered, shying away from the gentle touch. Shiro noticed and seemed hurt.

"Why are you so cold?" He said.

Ichigo's mind drew a blank. What could he say to something like that?

"I don't know." Ichigo answered, looking away. He felt a twinge of hurt in his belly, replacing the warmth, at Shiro's comment. "Sorry, I guess."

Shiro hesitated to reply, biting into his lips with perfect teeth. "We should go to my place."

Ichigo looked at him in surprise. "Why?"

"Why not? You don't wanna be caught by yer 'rents out here, do ya?" Shiro teased, toothy smile back in place as if their conversation hadn't even happened.

"No, but..."

"Then, come on!" Shiro exclaimed as he grabbed Ichigo's hands and hefted him up. Ichigo gasped in surprise as he fell against the slim teenager, who was apparently much stronger than he looked.

.: :.

As Ichigo jogged alongside the impossibly fit boy beside him, he felt like his insides were going to erupt out of his mouth at any minute. His backpack slammed irritatingly hard into his back with every step, and his shoes weren't minding him and trying to slide off his feet. That or give him the worst blisters of his life, one of the two.

As he panted and tried to keep up, he was amazed at how relaxed the other seemed beside him, even footfalls leading him through some of the same roads he followed to get home. Did Shiro live near him? He'd never seen a moving truck or anything...

His question was answered as Shiro lead him down a strange road lined with descent-looking apartment buildings. The neighborhood wasn't bad necessarily. In fact, it was pretty nice.

Shiro picked now to look at him, and immediately slowed his pace. "Oi, ya okay? Ya wan' me t'carry ya?"

Ichigo looked mortified. "_Hell no!_ I'm fine."

Shiro's brow furrowed in obvious disbelief. "Yer face looks like a lobster."

Ichigo's eyes narrowed and he managed to pant out another sentence. "I'm _fine_."

He shrieked, sounding similar to Shiro when they were in the office, as Shiro's arms attacked his ribs and hefted him onto his back in one fluid movement. Ichigo growled defiantly into the other's ear as he was held forcefully on his back.

Shiro had slowed to a walk as he strained to keep the other on his back, a sheen of sweat Ichigo hadn't noticed before appearing on his face. By now his own breath was evening out, and he knew he would be taking advantage of the situation were he to allow the other to carry him any further.

"Look, Shiro-sa... Shiro, I appreciate the gesture, but I can walk if that's what we're doing." Ichigo said calmly, and the other giggled in response as he stopped.

"Well, if yer sure yer gonna be okay... I just didn't want yer heart to give out or nothin'. I mean, yer the only friend I have in school." Shiro said sincerely, letting Ichigo slide down his back.

Ichigo gasped as his groin rubbed hard against the other's behind as his feet hit the ground.

"Ah... S-sorry... Sorry, Shiro..." Ichigo panted, flustered, as he shifted his backpack on his back. Shiro gave him a seductive leer over his shoulder.

"S'okay, Ichi, I don't mind the feelin' of ya movin' behind me." Shiro retorted huskily, before turning his head and continuing down the sidewalk, leaving Ichigo gawking.

He considered just turning around and going back to school, or maybe home, or anywhere, but as he spun around he realized he had no idea how to trace his steps. He stared down the empty street in horror as he realized he was indeed stuck with his last-second (and mildly forced) decision to accompany the other to his home. He was _also_ stuck with the hunger for said other pooling to his abdomen.

"Oi, don' make me carry ya again, Ichi!" Shiro shouted to him from the edge of the block. When Ichigo turned to him, he waved for Ichigo to catch up. Ichigo cast a dark look to his own groin and noticed the growing bulge he was sporting.

"If you give me any more trouble, I swear to _God_, we won't be on touching terms for a _very long time_." He muttered to it as his legs carried him to the bronze-haired student.

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A/N:

Well, and that's chapter four. I decided connecting them would work out after all, and I'm already working on the next one. I'm half-done with it, so it may even be up today... O.O Wouldn't that be marvelous? Three posted in one day?

R/R


	5. Strike a Pornographic Pose

**A/N:**

Welcome to chapter five! This one was so much fun. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

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"_Dance to this beat  
Dance to this beat  
Dance to this beat_

Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster, faster  
Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster"

Panic! at the disco, A Fever You Can't Sweat Out, "Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off"

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Shiro's home was a white-bricked apartment building. It was split into two halves, and Shiro lead him to the left front door. Ichigo observed the orange trash bag left on the porch beside the red door he now stood in front of. He also noticed the plastic hospital box hidden behind it, filled with used syringes, and cast a fearful look at the other.

Was he on drugs?

He shook his head and told himself that maybe Shiro or his family had a medical condition.

Shiro slid the key into the lock and turned it easily, grinning as he pushed open the door. A gust of cool air swept from the revealed living room, the majority decorated in shades of pale red and some earthy colors. The black couch against the wall separating the room from the kitchenette was partly covered by discarded clothing and... was that a... _playgirl_?

Shiro noticed Ichigo's eyes widened and blushed as he saw where they were pointing.

"Ah, that's..." Shiro began, but cleared his throat and shoved it behind the couch with practiced ease. He turned and gave Ichigo a bright grin.

"Anyway, this is it." He said and tossed his keys into a glass bowl on the low table with surprising accuracy. Ichigo willed his blush down and looked around.

"Is everyone else at work?" Ichigo asked politely, avoiding the suspicious couch and sitting on the recliner across from it.

"Everyone...? Huh? I live here alone." Shiro told him, hands lifting to his hips. "S'jus' me."

"How the hell do you afford to live alone?" Ichigo asked, dropping his bag beside him. That meant the syringes were indeed Shiro's. The thought sent a malicious worry into his chest, toxifying his thoughts with wild images of a Shiro different than what he saw before him now.

"Ah, I've got a couple odd jobs that pay out th' ass, so I'm good." Shiro explained and disappeared behind the wall.

Ichigo got up and followed him into the kitchen. "Odd jobs? Like what?"

"So, ya wan' somethin' t' drink or what?" Came the chipper response.

Ichigo frowned at the aversion and approached him, pushing down the memory of the syringes hidden behind the trash outside.

"I guess... can I have some water?" He asked blandly, and Shiro noticed his tone. The bronze-headed boy straightened to look at him over the open fridge door. Without looking, he grabbed a bottle of water and tossed it to Ichigo.

"I gotta piss, I'll be righ' back." Shiro said before walking away.

Ichigo slid to the edge of the room just in time to catch him disappear into the bedroom. His eyebrows came together in worry. Was it his imagination, or did things just take a weird turn? He twisted open the cap on the bottle and downed half the bottle, waiting at the edge of the hall for Shiro to emerge. When he did, Ichigo startled and jumped out of sight in the kitchenette so that Shiro couldn't tell he'd been spying.

He heard the toilet flush and the bathroom door shut, then footfalls carry down the hall towards him.

"Sorry 'bout that, had a lot to drink t'day." Shiro grinned and slipped onto one of the stools that lined the long table that had been attached to the wall. "So, ya feelin' better?"

Ichigo nodded and climbed onto one of the seats as well. "Yeah, thanks."

"So, what's up with yer dad, huh?" Shiro asked, leaning back against the table, his forearms lying on the flat surface. Ichigo sighed at the question and put the soles of his feet against the wall from under the table. Then he gasped.

"Oh, should I have taken my shoes off?" He asked, but Shiro laughed.

"No point. No one ever does." He replied with a grin, fiddling with one of his wristbands.

"Who all comes over here?" Ichigo asked, kicking his shoes off anyway and listened to them thud to the floor. Shiro noticed and smiled wider.

"Clients." He replied, and hopped off the stool. Ichigo stared after him as the boy walked to the fridge, licking his lips at the sight of the boy's rear.

"What do you mean, _clients_? Are you in a business or something?" He demanded, now thoroughly interested.

"A business, huh?" Shiro looked thoughtful as he opened the fridge door, a finger fitting between stark white teeth in wonder. A smile took his face again. "Yeah, a business. I like that thought."

Ichigo made a face. "So, is it or isn't it?"

"Sure."

Another face. "Whatever."

Ichigo looked back to the bottle he was holding on the table. He picked idly at the blue wrapper the encased it's middle. Shiro pulled a brown package out of the fridge and tossed it on the stove top. "I'm eating. Want something?"

"Yeah, I could go for something right about now. What do you have?" Ichigo asked, eying the package, which the boy was now digging into.

"Looks like... Oh." He said, and froze. He shoved the package back into the fridge and gave an apologetic smile over his shoulder. "That one wa'n't food." He said, before rummaging in the fridge again.

Ichigo smirked and fell lightly from his seat. "Do you mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Huh? Oh, no problem. It's right-"

"I think I know where it is." Ichigo said and walked away. Shiro stared after him, eying the sway of the other's hips for as long as he was able.

"Huh. Tha's some ass 'e has." He muttered, before turning again.

.: :.

He pressed down the handle, watching the contents drain away as he zipped up his pants carefully, minding his semi-erection. This thing _had_ to go down if he was going to go back out there. He stared at his groin angrily as possibilities ran through his head like fire, setting his erection higher.

"Dammit!" He gasped, noticing his situation was growing worse. He turned to the wall to admire the picture, hoping to get his mind off his enlarging problem.

And he gasped.

It was a massive, elaborately framed photograph, enlarged to display two men. One, nude, was being held from behind by an intimidating man, who was fully clothed in black attire. Well, the photo itself was B & W, but the presumed colors were obvious.

A flush was lighting the cheeks of the male that was fully exposed to the audience, his arms lifted above his head and bent behind him to rest on the other male's covered shoulders and said dressed male sensually bit into the neck of the nude... teenager. He was younger than Ichigo first thought. His head was thrown back in perceived pleasure, pure white hair curling to frame his bright, lust-filled eyes that were drooping from the experience.

Ichigo stared in surprise, eyes following the hairless chest and strong belly to the slim waist, where the boy's manhood was gripped firmly by the man behind him. The man's thumb was rubbing along the leaking slit of the boy's arousal. As Ichigo looked on, he saw the boy was completely shaved for the occasion, and sporting an interesting tattoo along the left side of his abdomen. It was a series of small black and white bears crawling towards his groin. Were they... pandas?

Whatever they were, they were adorable. Ichigo wrinkled his nose. Did he just think something was adorable?

A knock at the door made his head snap towards the noise.

"Ichi, ya okay?" Shiro asked. Ichigo looked down and realized his problem had only worsened from staring at the picture.

"Yeah, I was just looking at the picture you have in here. It's... unparalleled." He called back, eyes still following the images, hesitant to look away. He finally opened the door, and Shiro looked worried as he looked around the room suspiciously.

"Um, I hope I don' got anythin' in here that could... offend ya. I mean, the picture I jus' remembered bein' in 'ere. I mean, I _knew_, but ya see, I don' get a lot of people here that are the type t' impress, so..."

Ichigo raised his eyebrows at the flood of words. Impress?

"I mean, I just hope nothin' ya find here at my place makes ya feel weird a' all." Shiro continued and eyed the picture, now chewing his lip worriedly. Ichigo turned on the water from the sink and proceeded to wash his hands.

"Don't worry about it, Shiro." Ichigo assured him, turning the water off and rubbing his hands dry on the cleanest towel on the rack.

"Ya didn' say yer ABCs." Shiro observed suddenly, making Ichigo give him another look.

"Now what're you talking about?" Ichigo smiled, beginning to enjoy these childish thoughts Shiro had.

"Yer ABCs, Ichi. When you wash yer hands, ya say all the ABCs so ya know you washed long 'nuff." Shiro explained, leaning against the door frame and imitating a washing motion with his hands. Ichigo bit back his laughter, much to Shiro's chagrin. "Ne'ermind."

"No, it's cute. The things you say." Ichigo said apologetically, laughter dimming to a sincere grin. The two smiled at each other, eyes soft.

Ichigo realized what he said and blushed again, smile evaporating.

"I-I mean... No, what I meant..." He couldn't finish. It was humiliating.

Shiro giggled and took a step towards his guest, eyes filled with glee and excitement. He raised a hand to Ichigo's strong jawline before kissing his cheek chastely.

"S'okay, Ichi, I think yer cute, too." He teased, before slipping out of the room.

Ichigo's cheeks were on fire, and his palms were growing wet again. He was sweating. How embarrassing...

"Th-that's not what I meant!" Ichigo tried to protest, but his eyes caught the picture beside him again and he groaned. God, sex was everywhere, and here he was, trying to wish away his erection! "I'm sorry!"

Could his face burn anymore?

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**A/N: **

Looks like another chapter was finished today after all. And I'll be starting the next one now, too. I've never felt so accomplished. lol

R/R


	6. Close Contact

**A/N:**

Well, so this is the fourth chapter I'll be finishing today. I'm amazed at myself, normally I don't have the stamina for this, especially since I've been bedridden for two weeks. I'm shocked.

I hope you enjoy it while it lasts.

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"_You've got a new horizon. It's ephemeral style.  
A melancholy town where we never smile.  
And all I wanna hear is the message beep.  
My dreams, they've got to kiss, because I don't get sleep, no..."_

Gorillaz, "Feel Good Inc."

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Shiro licked his lips in anticipation as Ichigo pressed the spatula harder on top of the cheese-covered mess that was their attempt at grilled cheese.

"S'it almos' done yet, huh?" Shiro asked over Ichigo's shoulder as the other male tensed at such close proximity.

"Maybe it'll sing to us the answer if you ask again, really, really loudly." Ichigo spat, not meaning to sound harsh, but irritated beyond belief at the demand for food emanating from the other. Shiro's eyes narrowed as he took a step back.

"No need 't be sarcastic 'bout it, Ichi." Shiro sighed and hopped onto a stool, which Ichigo had just noticed to be multi-colored. Shiro had picked a turquoise-seated one, which seemed to be his favorite as he refused to let Ichigo sit there when Ichigo had been waiting for Shiro to find food.

How Ichigo had been stuck cooking he didn't know. Maybe it was the delicious pout on the kid's face when he asked Ichigo so softly. He definitely had a way with his lips.

Ichigo blushed at the notion and cast a forlorn look in Shiro's direction, making the other straighten to attention. He turned back just as slowly, unsure if it had been truly necessary to prove his own point.

"S'it done yet?" Shiro asked again, hopeful because of Ichigo's actions. He received a sigh.

"I'll tell you when it is, I promise." Ichigo said softly, thoughts of the picture in the bathroom falling to his mind yet again. It had been a gorgeous catch. The photographer had an amazing eye...

"Ichiiii." Shiro whined from his seat, which he was now twirling around on.

"Yeah?" Ichigo replied, realizing he was loving the attention far too much.

"Are ya gonna spend th' night, maybe?" Shiro asked, voice optimistic and encouraging. Ichigo looked thoughtfully down at the food as he flipped one of the sandwiches.

"Can I use your phone?" He finally asked, eyes downcast as he began thinking of a reasonable excuse for his father. The man would no-doubt be ecstatic to find his son had found someone willing to be friends. Ichigo's heart skipped pathetically at the realization. He was ecstatic as well, wasn't he?

Ichigo smirked as he heard Shiro hop from the stool and pad down the hallway.

But he was still in trouble at home. The... incident from today could very well affect Isshin's decision.

"Wha's yer number?" Shiro asked, shuffling into the room. He leaned against the counter beside Ichigo and fiddled with the 'talk' button on the teal and gray colored cellphone. Ichigo looked at it in surprise.

"I can't believe it's not pink and purple." He teased, snatching it from the boy's hands. Shiro huffed.

"Whu's _that_ s'pposed t' mean?" He demanded. Ichigo grinned and flipped another sandwich.

"Only that you're a very intense individual." Ichigo replied, watching the satisfaction crawl over Shiro's expression as the boy decided he liked the adjective.

Ichigo shut the stove off and moved the pan from the burner as he dialed his home number, mind readying his tongue for the methodical words that were about to be colored to life.

"Dad? It's me." He said, and Shiro's face twisted into one of the oddest expressions he'd ever seen. A mix between longing and... defiance? Anger? Ichigo turned away from the boy and leaned against the stove. "Yeah, I'm fine... I'm not coming home tonight."

Shiro's expression snapped into shock. "Ichi, tha's blunt."

Ichigo waved off the comment and pushed back harder against the stove in irritation. "No, I'm not in trouble. I'm with... a friend."

The words sent a blush skirting across his cheeks and as he turned to avoid the grin that was probably accentuating Shiro's beauty, his hand slid across the burner by mistake.

He yelped and dropped the phone. "Fuck!"

Shiro snapped into action and scooped the phone up, situating it between ear and shoulder, as he spun Ichigo towards the kitchen sink. His face was all seriousness as he turned the cold water on and pulled Ichigo's hand under it's steady flow.

"Hullo, sir? Naw, he's fine, 'e had a tiny cookin' accident. No biggie." Shiro said into the receiver. He seemed to listen for a moment before leaving Ichigo's side and heading for the refrigerator, opening the freezer door and grabbing an ice pack from the inner shelves. He slipped it onto the counter for Ichigo's use. "Yeah, I heard about that. I wasn' involved, though, today whus my firs' day."

Ichigo's eyes narrowed at the direction the conversation was going as he soaked his throbbing fingers. "Gimme the phone, Shiro..."

"Disappeared? No, yer son was showin' me around the school grounds. Part o' 'is punishment, accordin' to th' office secr'tary." Shiro lied, grinning into the phone. Ichigo's eyes widened at the statement.

"Nah, I invited him t' stay. He's been totally sweet t' me th whole time. Really made me feel welcome." Shiro continued, making the blush darken on Ichigo's face. Ichigo looked back at his hand, which had turned bright red and felt raw.

"Shiro, please, lemme-"

"Yeah, of course, sir." Shiro said. "T'morrow is Friday, after all. An' i's no problem."

Ichigo scowled as he was ignored. He shut the water off and grabbed the icepack, welcoming the temperature against his injury. He looked at the clock in curiosity, and realized time had flown. School had been out for nearly an hour. He heard sudden gasp and whipped his head.

Shiro had nearly dropped the phone. "N-no, I don' think he's tryin' t' get in my pants!"

Mortified, Ichigo ripped the phone from the boy's hand. "Dad, what th' fuck!"

He was greeted by a dial tone. His eyes flicked to Shiro, who was biting his lip to hold back his laughter.

"S-sorry... 'E said to tell ya he loved ya, though..." Shiro grated out before erupting into fitful giggles. Ichigo sighed and let his shoulders slump.

"Thanks for having me over, Shiro. I appreciate it." He said finally, holding the phone out to the suddenly quiet boy. "I haven't gotten out of the house like this in a long, long time."

"Well, that jus' sounds weird." Shiro replied, grinning. "Thankin' me like tha'. I ain't used to it."

Shiro took the phone from the redhead with a smile and slipped it into his pants pocket, which really, Ichigo didn't see how it was possible. They looked uncomfortably tight.

"Oh, that's right... Um, I think I'm gonna need to borrow some things if I'm gonna be stayin' over, Shiro." Ichigo said tentatively. Shiro's face brightened and he licked his lips quickly.

"No problem. I think I have some stuff that'll be perfect for ya..." Shiro drawled slyly, deviousness written across his face.

With that, he slid closer to Ichigo and pulled his shirt up. Ichigo squealed in horror as he fought back, carefully avoiding the stove, and wound up sprawled beneath the boy on the kitchen tile. His back arched at the horrendous impact.

"Shirosaki!" He screeched, but Shiro was now running his hands smoothly down the other's thighs. Ichigo gasped and trembled as a wave of pleasure took him, body melting to the floor as his words seemed to die on his tongue.

Shiro was smirking, clearly in control of the situation, eyes assessing every shudder he inflicted on his guest. "R'lax, Ichi, I'm only tryin' t' size ya up. Yer the one tha' flipped and got us on th' floor."

Ichigo's brows furrowed, but he didn't reply, letting the other run his hands along Ichigo's legs in fluid, gentle movements. The hands found his hips and squeezed, profiting a soft inhalation from the redhead.

Shiro slid them under the other's shirt, warm palms rubbing the tense belly into relaxation. The boy leaned down to drape himself over Ichigo's figure, lips by his ear.

"I'd say yer..." he began, before his fingers brushed over the other's nipples. His lips turned up as he earned another gasp, accompanied by a shiver. "... a medium?"

Ichigo bit the insides of his cheeks to keep in a moan. Shiro's lip ring was scraping hotly against his earlobe with every word.

As soon as it had began, it was over, leaving a burning ache sewing into his muscles and groin.

Ichigo opened his eyes when the warmth left him to realize Shiro had disappeared again. His head dropped to the ground and he cursed quietly as he heard the bedroom door shut, the words 'I know what you can wear' lingering in the air.

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A/N:

Well? How was the tiny teaser?

R/R


	7. Boy Bands, Josephina and Mr Crusty

**A/N: **

Well, I had been thinking that this chapter wasn't going to happen for a (due to the dreaded writer's block we all complain about), but last night, after purchasing my very own/very wide rainbow belt, my words kinda took off. And I toiled for a few hours while listening to two late 90's bands/singers from a CD I'd picked up from Mc Donald's when I was a pre-teenager.

The band Shiro sings isn't named anywhere throughout the chapter, but feel free to pick it apart anyway. Anyone who can name them gets any food-item of choice delivered by any Bleach character of choice. xD Oh, the possibilities...

Anyway, after this chapter I'm going to start answering reviews within the story. They'll be in their own section after my last A/N, so anyone who actually does their fanfiction job should look for them.

Please enjoy chapter seven!

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"When the moon fell in love with the sun  
All was golden in the sky  
All was golden when the day met the night..."

Panic at the Disco, "When the Day Met the Night"

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The tweezers picked harshly at his skin and Ichigo winced, his hand pausing. He took in a shaky breath through his clenched teeth, eyes opening and staring determinedly at his reflection. At his exhale, he tugged hard, and the tweezers successfully ripped the loose hang of flesh from his scalp.

His resounding screech echoed off Shiro's bathroom walls as Ichigo dropped to a crouch, the bloody instrument sitting idly in the porcelain bowl of the sink, his nails digging into the counter.

"Fuck!" Ichigo finally hissed, eyes un-clenching. He stood on misty legs and bared a look in the mirror, feeling the hot trickle of blood slide down his face. The dizzying display of red oozing from the open gash was enough to make his trachea burn, the nausea hitting him hard and leaving him breathless and seated against the wall.

It was all a cakewalk compared to the hydrogen peroxide.

.: :.

Ichigo found Shiro outside after what felt like a decade of tears, yelps, and gauze. What he saw made him question if the hour in the bathroom was long enough. Surely Shiro didn't mean to be seen like... _this_.

Eyes shut, on the floor on his bum, Shiro was dancing... Well, sort of.

As Ichigo watched Shiro's shoulders bang gently against the wall in a mock, and frighteningly consecutive, rhythm, his eyes couldn't help but lower to see the teenager's hips bouncing around on the floor as well. His hands were alternating from rubbing along his chest to flouncing in the air, in what looked like very suggestive dance moves.

Ichigo really considered returning to the bathroom.

"... 'n sum-times when I list-en to ow-er soong, thuh nights seem so cold, 'n far toooo long... I wanna call you up, cause in the-ee eh-nd... I keep writin' letters to mah garbage can..."

The song should have scared him. Ichigo had never been into boy bands... especially not ones resounding from pre-teenage fads from America. But as Shiro sang the words, he had to admit that he sounded good. It sent goosebumps traveling up his forearms, making his fair-colored hair stand on end.

"... 'n ba-ee-beh, come 'n lay down buh-side meee..." Shiro bounced back against the wall again, hard. He winced and his singing stopped, his arms coming up to rub the abused shoulder. "Dammit..."

Ichigo watched, fascinated, as the boy pulled the ear-buds from his ears roughly, brown eyes slitting open to continue his pained expression.

"You alright?" Ichigo asked, crouching to look him in the eye. The boy noticed him then, and ceased all his movements in his surprise.

Shiro grinned up at him, his injury seemed to be forgotten in his sudden excitement.

"Ichi!" He exclaimed, eyes bright even in the dull light still streaming in from the faraway but _massive_ living room window.

And it hit him, hard. That face, so similar to his own. Back when _she_ was alive.

He could literally feel his face hardening. He felt his upper lip pull over his left canine, anger pouring through his limbs, fury pounding against his heart. Pain, circulating behind his eyes.

And then it was gone. Shiro had seen his expression, and his own had fallen dramatically. He now looked dejected as he stared up at the redhead, lips swollen from God-knows-what and face flushed.

Ichigo stifled the urge to let loose the tears that drew into his eyes. He forced a smile, and Shiro took it strangely. Such a strange expression, similar to what he'd seen in the kitchen when he was on the phone with his father.

What exactly was he thinking? His eyes were... older.

And then the smile was back. Big, goofy, and unnecessary, it spread across the boy's features like wildfire. He lifted his arms towards Ichigo, palms flat as if expecting something. A hug?

"Up!" Came his voice, chipper and childish. Of course.

Ichigo's smile grew as he slipped his hands under the crook of Shiro's arms and pulled him up. Once he was on his feet, Shiro had his hands prying at the gauze on his scalp.

Yeah, like a cute moment like that could last long. In zero-point-two nano-seconds, Shiro was back to his mischievous self.

Ichigo swatted at Shiro's prying hands irritatedly, teeth bared again in warning.

"C'mon, Shiro, it took forever to get it to stay on the spot! Don't mess with it!"

"Ya look good with th' color, Ichi!" Shiro decided, mouth agape and lips upturned ridiculously high.

Indeed, Shiro's kept gauze came in different colors. Ichigo had picked the least ostentatious, which happened to be the same shade of turquoise that Shiro seemed to favor.

"What're you doing listening to 90's boy bands, Shiro?" Ichigo asked, laughing at the images he couldn't shake. Shiro seemed unashamed as he clapped his hands together, iPOD grasped helplessly in between them.

"You know them? Aren't they, like, _so_ cool?" He gasped, his entire body seeming to thrum with unmistakable energy.

"Erm, well... no. They stopped being cool like a decade ago." Ichigo laughed, and Shiro scoffed, obviously un-swayed.

"They'll never loose their cool, Ichi." And then he turned to face the sunlight, hands clasped beside his heart dreamily. _"They'll be cool forever!"_

"Oh, gawd, now you're turning into my father. I swear, one phone-call with him and it's like you've been contaminated."

"So... you're saying a phone-call with your father is like... a night in bed with him?" Shiro suddenly gasped as Ichigo's mortified expression spread over them both. "Does your dad have AIDS, Ichi?!"

Ichigo smacked him upside his head playfully before stalking off to the kitchen, Shiro giggling loudly from the hallway.

.: :.

Ichigo poked at the food that had become glued to the pan.

"Uh... Shiro," Ichigo began, and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, Ichi?" Shiro sang as he danced into the room.

Shiro skipped to Ichigo's back before resting his chin on Ichigo's lowered shoulder. They both paused as they stared at the... the 'food'. They exchanged identical looks before Shiro grinned, hands seizing both sandwiches.

Ichigo found himself scooting backwards as Shiro proceeded to handle the crusted objects as if they were dolls, making their cardboard-like forms dance and kiss.

**"Ooh, Josephina, I love ya forevah and evah and evah... Muah muah muah muah!"** Shiro bellowed in a deep voice, and smashed the bread together to imitate four more kisses. The one in his left hand, apparently Josephina, turned away from the other shyly.

_"I so sorreh, Mr. Crusty, but I jus' can't accept your proposal for marriage! I'm only..."_ Shiro screeched in falsetto, ceasing to glance at the clock before dutifully continuing his show. Ichigo chuckled.

_"I'm only an estimated two-hundred-and-forty centuries old!"_

Ichigo nodded, grin in place. Two hours, of course.

_"I coul' ne'er get married, when I'm in fact pregnant with..."_ And Shiro turned on Ichigo, a malicious gleam twinkling in what Ichigo had mistaken for innocent brown eyes. _"Ichigo's thirtieth li'l baby girl!!"_

Ichigo yelped and found himself sprawled beneath the other boy on the kitchen tile, Josephina being thrust into his face and a dull ache circulating throughout his back. His protests weren't enough to halt the mighty Shiro as the tyrant's knees dug into Ichigo's hips to imitate spurs, as if he were riding a horse. Both boys erupted into laughter, Shiro trying to hold it in enough to continue.

_"Kiss mah, ya foo'! Kiss mah!" _

Ichigo squawked as the sandwich came at his face again. The other, Mr. Crusty, stomped around Ichigo's chest angrily .

**"Well, can Ichigo support ya li'e ah do? I got all th' jewels in th' 'tire world!"** Shiro barked, bringing Mr. Crusty ever farther up his chest. Josephina ceased rubbing against Ichigo's lips and turned to him. **"Jewels bein'... Bake-toria's curr'ncy, o' course!!**

_"I don' need yo jewels, Mr. Crusty! I on-leh need yo love! Don' ya see? E'er since I slept with tha' raddish, Ricardo, th' summer home's pool boy, mother's been pushin' fo' me t' find a __**good**__ boy t' settle down with, 'n she chose __**you**__, don' ya see!?_

**"Oh, mercy me, Darlin'!**

_"Bu' I __**hate**__ my mother, so I hate you, too!"_

And again, Josephina crushed into Ichigo's lips, which were puckered tightly shut for just such an attack.

**"Well, then why don't we love him together, Josephina?"** Shiro continued, and made Josephina and Mr. Crusty look at each other. _"You mean, together? We can love him... together?_

**"Aye, mah bonnie lass, we can love 'em togethah.**

_"Oh, Mr. Crusty!_

**"Oh, Josephina!"**

And then in what seemed like an ungraceful attempt at a dual voice, Shiro screeched out Ichigo's name before crushing the sandwiches into either side of Ichigo's face.

"See, Ichi? They're kissin' ya, like this." Shiro giggled, resuming his same childish banter by dancing the bread along Ichigo's face gently. "Butterfly kisses-like an' all tha'! Muah, muah, muah! See?"

And amidst their laughter, their eyes caught. Shiro's giggling slowed to brief chuckles as the bread was suddenly caught between Shiro's palms and the tile, caging Ichigo's head.

"Butterfly kisses, ya see, Ichi?" Shiro whispered.

His head began a slow descent towards Ichigo's.

The redhead could feel his heart in his ears, pulsing hard. He felt Shiro's warm breath coming in slow rasps, short from his puppet show, moist against his face. Ichigo stopped breathing, eyes wide, as his lips trembled in anticipation.

Shiro's lips brushed lightly against his forehead, his nose, then his right (blood-red) cheek, starting a gentle line down his strong jawline. Ichigo shuddered as the pink piercing scraped along his skin, dragging in the grease that remained on his face from the grilled cheese. He gasped as Shiro's lips grazed the corner of his mouth.

Shiro pulled back, teasingly, as Ichigo's eyes fluttered. "Butterfly, yeah?"

"Yeah..." Ichigo agreed, before lifting his limp fingers to thread in the soft hair on the back of Shiro's neck. "Butterfly."

Ichigo pulled him down and pressed their faces together, lips colliding softly, gently, and he held him there. He breathed out through his nose, the effect of the kiss dazzling. His whole mouth was tingling, and it wasn't even open yet. Just as he was about to attempt said opening, Shiro pulled back gently, grinning down at the flushed boy.

"Ichi don' know th' meanin' o' butterfly kissin'." Shiro noted, voice superior and yet soft at once. Shiro leaned down again, to capture the panting mouth hastily. As Ichigo was growing accustomed, Shiro pulled back, giggling. "Ya gotta be quick-like. Ya gotta _tease_."

Ichigo jerked as his nerves alerted him to a hand trailing gently up his thigh. The culprit grinned at being caught, one arm roving behind his back and coming closer, moving said hand, and-

"Ahh... Shi-Shir... Shiroooo..." Ichigo groaned as Shiro's hand grazed his straining erection. Before he could buck his hips, both hands were fisting through Ichigo's hair and massaging the injured areas with precise care.

Lips became re-attached as Shiro's searching fingers found the turquoise gauze and tapped gently at it. He pulled back as he felt Ichigo's face harden into a wince.

"Duzzit still 'urt if I do this?" He asked gently, voice soft against his ear, as that same pink lip-piercing scraped mercilessly with the coming of the boy's words. His fingers tapped the spot again, and the pain seemed to flood behind Ichigo's ear, where Shiro was busy nuzzling with his lips. It set his facial nerves ablaze, making every breath, every kiss, every blush, send him into an ecstatic state of nirvana.

"Nn-Nnnnnn... Nnnoo... Ahh-" Ichigo shuddered as Shiro caught the shell of his ear between his teeth, tugging gently and massaging with his tongue.

Both boys startled when a shrill beeping broke through their spells on each other. They hesitated, exchanging heated, confused looks at each other. Ichigo pinned him with his eyes.

"It's your place, you know it better than I do." He panted, and Shiro sat up, eyes wide in wonder.

"Where's it comin' from?" He asked, looking over the corner of the stove to see if they'd left it on.

"I'onno..." Ichigo sighed, head falling back as his chest heaved. He watched the gorgeous boy above him glare about the room with his ears pricked, as if eyesight alone could stifle the noise.

And it stopped.

They looked at each other. Ichigo's hands raised to pull him back down.

"It doesn't matter, does it? Shiro?"

Shiro nuzzled his cheek, eyes slowing their observation of the room. "Nah, naw really..."

And Ichigo initiated the kiss again, their lips rutting against each other. He twitched in pleasant surprise when he felt a slick object rub along his lips. Was that Shiro's tongue? Regardless, Ichigo shivered as it plunged into his mouth, waking wholly new, sinful sensations. Just as he was about to twine his tongue with Shiro's...

The beeping started up again. They paused their movements, faces as one. They disconnected.

Shiro sat up and scowled.Ichigo hefted himself up on his elbows, eyes scanning the room for what it could be. His ears lead him to the boy currently shifting around dangerously close to his hard groin.

"Are you beeping?" He asked, baffled. Shiro looked himself over.

"Uh?"

"I think you're beeping."

Shiro patted his chest in curiosity.

"Izzit a bomb?" He mused, and Ichigo rolled his eyes at the surreal notion.

"Mm, yeah. A bomb in the form of a," he slipped his fingers into Shiro's pants pocket, and it indeed was a very tight squeeze, "... cell phone."

Shiro erupted into a fit of giggles as he took the phone from the other knowingly, flipping it open and grinning down at the screen.

Said grin abruptly faded. "Oh..."

Cautious brown eyes flitted from Ichigo's to the screen of the delicate contraption held in suddenly very white fingers. Any more pressure on that phone, and Ichigo mused that it would crumble.

"I'm sorry..." Shiro whispered, voice hoarse, before standing. Without another glance, he stalked off towards his bedroom, leaving Ichigo to stare dejectedly after him, lips feeling abnormally vacant.

* * *

* * *

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**A/N:**

Well, that's it for the seventh chapter. I hope everyone enjoyed, and please remember to review! It makes updates come a lot faster! Also, remember that the person who gets the band's name right gets a prize! At least attempt it. xD

R/R


	8. Do the Panda

**A/N:**

Well, guys, I'm uber sorry this took so long! Since school started on the twelfth, I have to admit, things have been a little hectic. My absence from writing as also made my style a bit funny, I think, and not in the "ha ha" kinda way. So, I hope you all still enjoy this, and please review with helpful/hurtful comments and bout what you loved/liked/coulda shot in the face.

Thanks again, and remember, all reviews are now being answered at the bottom of stories, right after the A/N. Which is even more reason in itself to review, I mean, the more your name's listed in stories, the more times people will be interested and take a look at your page… which, if you're a fellow author, is excellent publicity. ;)

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"When the moon found the sun  
He looked like he was barely hanging on  
But her eyes saved his life  
In the middle of summer (summer)

Panic at the Disco, "When the Day Met the Night"

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Ichigo sighed, washing his hands in the kitchen sink. He'd successfully cleaned up their mess and washed the crusty pan. Not knowing where to put it, he'd left it to dry in the draining board. He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and replaced the burner covers on the stove. The design was black with red and white pandas eating bamboo. He stared at them a bit longer before his mind wandered to the picture in the bathroom, where the nude boy's abdominal tattoo had been a group of pandas...

He shook his head at the thought. Why couldn't he stop thinking about it?

Regardless, where did all this leave him and Shiro? What were they now? Dammit, he'd just met the boy not even eight hours ago, and there they were making out on the floor. He felt his cheeks heat at the memory.

A door shut. Ichigo listened as Shiro made his way behind him.

"Ya cleaned up?" Shiro asked, surprise gracing his features. Ichigo settled with a small smile as a response, leaning against the cool metal stove. Shiro grinned and walked dramatically on his toes to Ichigo. "Well, tha' was nice of ya."

"Mm." Ichigo merely watched the boy, unsure of how to behave now. Shiro seemed to notice the unease, and fell back on his heels, a few feet from the redhead. He toyed with the cellphone in his hand.

"Well." Shiro began, fingers tickling over the sides of the object. "S'only six o'clock, so..."

Ichigo licked his lips and looked away. "Yeah. Six."

A word so close to sex...

His eyes trailed back to the boy, his eyes following the slim fingers as they danced over the phone. Long, thin, _perfect_ fingers... accented by black nail polish that had escaped Ichigo's notice earlier. The rings he wore glistened from the kitchen light hovering over them, their delicate girth sizing the boy's fingers quite nicely.

The way the fingers bent and flicked against the plastic surface of the object; Ichigo's mind couldn't help but sink into a dreamy state, wondering what those seemingly talented fingers would _feel_ like... sliding inside him gracefully, smoothly, twisting like they were before his eyes, pressing deep... _deep_...

His eyes fluttered as he imagined the dual sensations of pleasure, and the strong sting of that godly pain, the stretching... There would be another supple finger, filling him to capacity. And then _another_, pushing him beyond his limits, pressing him into an oblivion he'd never dreamed of being possible for himself. And then Shiro would whisper hot, filthy, sinful mutterings in his ear, that damn piercing breaking his constraint on himself as it scraped against his flushed skin... and he would part his own lips and-

A deep moan broke through the silence, and Shiro snapped his eyes to Ichigo's mouth on reflex.

Ichigo was beyond mortified. What the hell had just happened? His eyes wide and mouth still agape from his previous blasphemy, Ichigo ducked his face to avoid Shiro's curious stare. While eying the floor, he couldn't help but notice the rather large bulge in his pants, and turned quickly around to press himself against the stove.

What was _wrong_ with him?! He quickly thought up a diversion.

"Nn-dah, um, hey! I was wondering about these burners you have here. There's pandas on here, and I noticed pandas on the tattoo of that guy in the photo in the bathroom as well, and I was wondering if maybe that was a kink of yours-"

Did he just say kink? Did he _really_ just say kink?

"I-I mean, if that was something you liked done to you-"

How the hell could you do a '_panda'_ to someone? What in the world was this nonsense spilling so illicitly from his face?! He wasn't willing this!

His eyes glared down at his erection and he felt the anger more clearly than he had before.

_You..._ He thought, nigh seething now.

He hissed something unintelligible to the limb in question as Shiro merely grinned in unhidden amusement.

"How do you do a panda to someone?" He asked excitedly as he pranced to Ichigo's side, gazing up at the boy's frozen face.

There was no way he'd just asked him that. What kind of retard-

"Tell me, Ichi! I wanna know! What's the panda?"

Oh, God, he _would_ wanna know. "I-I dunno, I don't think-"

"You don't think I could handle it? Izzit some kinda secret or somethin'? Do I hafta do somethin' t' prove my worthiness?" Shiro gasped and slammed a fist onto his palm. "Oh, oh! I get it! Ya wanna _show_ it to me i'stead, right? 'Cuz isso awesome, righ'?"

Horrifying. This banter was horrifying. Ichigo couldn't control the look of dread as it spread across his face, rivaling the heat that had already staked it's claim on his skin.

Ichigo's lips trembled as he fought for a response.

The phone was in Shiro's pocket and his hands were tucked into Ichigo's before the speechless teen could object. "Well? Won' ya show me thuh panda?"

"I-I don't know any panda! I don't... I don't think I..." Ichigo swallowed hard and tried to regain his composure. And it hit him.

"Are you offering some type of sex?"

Shiro tilted his head in curiosity. "Uh? I though' _you_ were."

"W-Wha... Wh..." Ichigo sank to the floor, pulling Shiro down with him. He could hardly breathe. This was humiliating! And the boy was so willing! So very, very willing!

"Yer so red, Ichi." Shiro commented, and balanced a crouch in front of him. "Ya wan' me t' get ya somethin'?"

"Yeah, get me five minutes back in the past." Ichigo muttered, before pulling his head up to look Shiro in the eye. "I hope you don't think I'm some kind of major pervert or anything, Shiro... This isn't how I usually am."

Another tilt of Shiro's head.

Puppy. Gorgeous puppy that Ichigo was tempted to throw onto it's hands and knees and ride into next week, screaming and moaning along the way.

And then he was overcome with images of a flushed, moaning Shiro, writhing underneath him as Ichigo sank himself deeply into the tight heat that fitted itself so perfectly around his hard, throbbing cock...

Ichigo winced and bit back another moan. "Shiro, what are you _doing_ to me?"

Shiro looked worried as his pink tongue snaked out to play with the piercing that dangled cunningly from recently-glossed lips. He seemed to consider Ichigo for a moment.

Ichigo was nearing ecstasy as he watched the acrobatic twists of that cunning tongue as it wiped along the ring, poking slightly through it as if to tease. He was so close to pulling the boy into his lap and licking the smear of saliva on his pale skin that Shiro's actions had wrought.

And the tongue retracted.

"I think we should 'ave sex."

It was the least slurred and most confident thing he'd heard the boy say since he'd met him. It was spoken with such authority, such wisdom, such _ease_, that Shiro could have been teaching him how to solve a math problem. And this was sort of exactly like that for Shiro, Ichigo mused. He was trying to solve Ichigo's problem.

"And I think that's moving too fast." Ichigo retorted, defensive for his innocence whether his body was minding him or not. Again, that wily pink tongue slipped out to fiddle with the pink ring. Shiro looked thoughtful again.

Dammit, if this was Shiro's thinking face, the other students in class were going to have a hard time being around him. Wait, was he saying? He was going to have a hard time! Forget those other jerks...

"Movin' too fast towards what d'rection, ezzactly?" Shiro asked, eyes narrowing with persuasion.

Ichigo blinked.

"I-I... I'm..." He could barely speak. "I don't wanna... loose... _it."_

Shiro merely blinked.

"You know... my... _you know_..." Ichigo gulped. And then understanding lit up Shiro's face.

"You ain't ne'er had sex yet?"

Ichigo sighed. Finally, it was out.

"No," he turned his eyes down. Why was he ashamed?

"Wha' 'bout tha' redhead from earlier? Th' one with thuh jugs?" Shiro made a crude bouncing gesture against his own chest. Ichigo's eyes followed the movement, and he felt his lips turn down.

"Shiro, I didn't... Yeah, her and I did some things..." He sighed. This was taking too long. "I never actually put _myself_ into another human being, _no_. With her, it was other things... until..."

Until _they_ walked in on them. The preps of the volleyball team, entering the girl's showers hidden in the locker room...

"Who says you'd be puttin' anythin' in anybody? Maybe somebody'd be puttin' somethin' in you."

Ichigo snapped his eyes to Shiro's. Was he serious?

"You think you'd be on top?"

"Why not? Ya said ya never did nobody before... 'N I got th' essperience..."

Ichigo narrowed his eyes. "How much experience, Shiro?"

There was a dead silence as the two looked at one another, one in bewilderment at the question, the other in suspicion at the possible answer.

A grin broke Shiro's expression, and the boy leaned over to connect foreheads with Ichigo.

"Loose lips sink ships, Ichi." He tittered, and licked the boy on the nose. Ichigo was surprised at the gesture, and especially the slick spot now cooling his nose. Shiro stood and yanked Ichigo up along with him. "I'm 'ungry."

"But, Shiro-"

"Go out with me? I'no wanna cook anythin' else." Shiro wrinkled his face, memories of the previous incidents haunting him. Ichigo decided to play along with it, and he chased what had just happened to the back of his mind.

"I don't think any restaurant around here would appreciate another food-scene, Shiro."

Shiro grinned widely. "Z'at mean no Mr. Crusty 'n Josephina?"

"_God_, no!" Ichigo laughed.

.: :.

It was disturbing how easy it was to push away the negatives sides of Shiro. How easy it was to forget things that had just happened, and how very, very simple it was for Shiro to distract Ichigo into thinking about something else.

Namely sex. The boy didn't even have to do anything provocative, his body handled it for him. Shiro could be blowing away a piece of stray hair, or drumming his nails on some sort of surface, and Ichigo would find it highly arousing. Which led him to wonder, what his hormones were trying to do to him?

Currently, they were sending impulses to every muscle in his body to jump the boy running his hands rascally through Ichigo's mussed hair.

"So, I think tha' about sums it up, yeah?" Shiro smiled, and turned toward the hallway mirror to see Ichigo more clearly.

The blood on Ichigo's uniform had made it impossible for their outing. Shiro had needed to fetch some clothes for him, which was why Ichigo was stuck inside an viselike, plum-colored t-shirt and navy-and-white pinstriped hip-huggers.

He looked ridiculous.

"Shiro, don't you have any kind of… _normal_ outfit?" Ichigo asked, wincing as Shiro skimmed his hands over the aqua-colored bandage. Shiro looked surprised.

"Wha' do you mean? This _is_ normal…" Shiro dropped back down to his heels to look up a Ichigo, who merely sighed and shook his head.

"Never mind." Ichigo put his hands on his hips and studied his reflection. His eyes trailed down and caught that his eretion had long since died down. Thank God...

Shiro disappeared from the frame and Ichigo turned. The boy was headed to his bedroom, which Ichigo had yet to see, much less enter. Ichigo grabbed his soiled pants from the floor and checked the pockets.

"I've got my wallet, Shiro... You don't have to worry about it." Ichigo said, opening the brown object in question. Shiro ducked into his room regardless, and Ichigo slipped his wallet into his new pants with a sigh. At least these weren't as tight as the one's Shiro had on...

"Ready?" Shiro asked, exiting his room and rifling through a black, pink-lined messenger bag. Ichigo recognized the bulge in Shiro's pocket as the cell-phone, and the gloss shimmering off his lips as another reapplication.

Ichigo eyed the helical designs that curved across the bag's front. "Hey, where's your bag from school?"

"Uh? Mr. Bizzle? I left him, my glasses, and my vest back in the office at school." Shiro slipped his head into his bag dramatically. "I can't find my wallet..."

"I said I got it, Shiro..." Ichigo patted the bulge against his upper thigh for reference. "What's a Mr. Bizzle?"

"My bag... The one with the white-ish, pink-ish teddy on the front?" Shiro pulled his head from his bag, his messy hair pulling along some of the contents. Ichigo laughed at the look of the boy, stepping forward to tug an orange post-it from the frowzled bronze hair.

It read _"call mommy"_ in sloppy print. Shiro pulled it from Ichigo's outstretched hand with his perfect teeth as he shoved his other belongings back into his bag. With a _'pteuah'_, he spat it back into his bag and slung it over his torso.

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure your things will be alright back at school?"

"S'not like we can do much now, uh?" Shiro winked at him and danced past him into the living room. Ichigo followed in time to see Shiro's graceful fingers slip into the glass bowl on the center table and pull out a set of keys. "Ichi, ya need a jacket or nothin'?"

"I think I'll be fine." He smiled, not wanting to bother Shiro any more than he already had, what with the kitchen-disaster, the blood he had to clean in the sink, the clothes he wore now... Where were his sneakers?

"What'cha lookin' for?" Shiro slurred from behind the keys he'd bit between his teeth as the boy pulled his arms through a gray jacket he grabbed from the occupied hooks on the wall. Ichigo bit his lip and looked around.

"Have you seen my shoes?"

"Yeah, ya dropped 'em under th' table in th' kitchen, 'member?" Shiro spat the keys into his hands and made a face at the metallic taste probably lingering in his mouth.

Ichigo dropped to his hands and knees beside the table. "Got them."

Shiro watched Ichigo pull on the shoes as he swayed back and forth on either heel with his weight. When finally Ichigo had stood, he grabbed the other by his hand and pulled him out the door.

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A/N:

This took an uber long time, and again, sorry for the wait. I'm hoping to get on the next chapter tonight, maybe… maybe.

R/R

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**NEW SECTION! REVIEWS!**

Welcome everyone to the panel where I answer the reviews you guys send me! Joining us today are some awesome writers/readers who would probably love for you to check them out!

Keep in mind that the idea for a reviews panel is not an original one. Many authors here have done it, and I'm following their footsteps to get more reviews. O.O; since it seems to work for them.

**Chapter Seven**

Taylor:

Exactly. You were first to get the answer right, the band mentioned was NSYNC. Awesome! Cookies for you!

My Renji-kun:

:O le gasp, I uber love your enthusiasm! xD xD xD awesome!

Freakypetachick:

No, sorry. NSYNC, but yeah, 98 (degree sign) was popular around that time too. :D

Ichkak:

Omg thank you so much! I really hope I've met those three words. I try really hard to keep it upbeat.

SutaakiHitori:

For one thing, there was an issue with our last mail. O.O Can you send it to me again?

You got the whole thing right! Song title and everything! I'm hoping everyone does enjoy this in the end.

The Holyest Of Crap:

The Josephina and Mr. Crusty thing was, omg, so much fun to write. I was, like, elated. Fuuun!!

And that was the song, totally. You got it right! :D

Cherry-Starburst:

I'm keeping the phone call a suspense. lol Readers, forgive meee! And I hope my story is that, I'm really trying to keep the sex an intimate part of it.

Chakolit Chip:

Suspeeence! Well, I hope this chapter relieves (adds? :D) some sexual tension for the readers. xD thanks!!

Slack-Jawed Cheese Hugger:

WHAT DOES THAT MEEAANN?! Thank you, I think, for whatever that was! In a weird way, it fits the story.

Instigator117:

I'm soooo glad someone finally said what you did. I really go for that uber-weird freak that sits in the front of class, decked out in rainbows and acting like a total imp (mainly because that's totally me, minus the daily rainbows). I really wanted Shiro to impact people, like Ed impacted me from Cowboy BeBop. Except hotter, and having a penis, and enjoying but secks. :D

I'm sorry to hear that about your life, even though I don't know what it is… Things get better, I promise! Thank you sooo much for the review, yours really went BAM to me!

And that's it for the reviews, everyone! Thanks so much for reading, and I hope to see you all again next time!


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